


Blackbird

by xirucem



Series: Oneirataxia [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Mild Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xirucem/pseuds/xirucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Loki falls from the Bifrost.</p><p>Loki fell to Midgard, but all memory has been erased from his mind. All he is left with is the pain of everything that has been ripped from him.</p><p>Thor knows that he is out there somewhere, and with thunder and lightning, he searches.</p><p>Part One</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blackbird Chapter One—Largo

 

He woke with rain upon his face.

He brushed away the droplets that rested upon long lashes, green eyes fluttering open. The man sat up, running his fingers through disheveled raven colored hair. He frowned slightly, starting to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Rolling hills greeted his eyes, each a different shade of green, and the sky a desolate, but calm gray, a slow drizzle falling with a chill that settled into one’s bones.

His green eyes closed.

A thought occurred to him—he had no idea who he was.

“Hello?” a voice called, a little gravely and raspy with age, “Are you alright young man?”

He opened his eyes again. She was old, but crisp, clear blue eyes watched him with a note of concern, a smile on her wrinkled, kindly face.

Quite suddenly, emotion hit him. Betrayal, loss, anger, rage, sadness, desperation, and somehow, the overwhelming feeling of being completely alone. He couldn’t control the tears that began to fall down his pale cheeks, soon, sobs were drawn from his lips, broken sounds from a shattered heart.

“Oh my poor lad, come here,” the old woman said, resting her creaking bones beside him. She pulled him into her arms and let him rest against her shoulder. He tried his best to stifle the sobs and tears, but to no avail. He looked up, wiping his eyes, cheeks flushed. “What’s your name, lad?” He shook his head, not trusting his voice just yet. “Do you remember anything at all?” she asked patiently. Another shake of the head. “Alright, lad, help these old bones up and I’ll fix us some stew for dinner,” she smiled and took his hand in her own thin, wrinkled ones.

He gave a watery smile in return and helped her up. “Those are some strange clothes, lad,” she chuckled.

He looked at himself, a little curiously. He was wearing fine black leather boots, silver detailed buckles on the sides, some black breeches, and a finely detailed under tunic that felt light, the finest cotton. But he personally felt light, as though some weight was missing from everything. Like he should be wearing more. He just looked up and offered a smile again. She brushed herself off and pulled her woolen shawl closer, and he realized that she was indeed much shorter than he was—she only came up to his chest. But she was kind, wizened, and bent with age, and everything about her was warm.

“Well, you can call me Sharon, and for now until you remember your name, we’ll call you…” the old woman thought for a moment, and a slow smile settled on her lips, “Lonan, we’ll call you Lonan.” He smiled again- he liked it quite a lot.

And so Sharon and Lonan made their way over the green hills, her arm resting on his for support.

They came to her small cottage just outside of town, and Lonan knew that at least for a little while, he could call this place home. Everything was so welcoming about it, from the brown tiled roof to the white plaster walls. The door to the cottage was bright blue, the blue of a cloudless sky. “Come on in lad and we’ll put you in somethin’ warm. My son was a little shorter than you but he had more meat on him! You’re a skinny thing aren’t you?” Sharon chuckled.

“Thank you,” Lonan said suddenly. Sharon turned and smiled. “Don’t you worry lad, you can stay as long as you need to,” she said. She was beginning to like this boy quite a lot.

“Thank you,” he said softly again as she started to rummage in an old chest full of clothes. She pulled out a deep emerald green sweatshirt.

“Here you go lad, this seems like it would suit you quite well,” she said warmly and took out a pair of trousers, “These might be a bit big on those little hips you’ve got, but they’ll do for now. Go put ‘em on in the bathroom there,” she said pointing to a door. He nodded and held the clothing to his chest as he slipped into the small room.

As he pulled off his tunic-like shirt, he saw bruises across his chest. Just a few. He turned and spotted a few on his back as well. How had he gotten those? Lonan looked at himself and reached up, slicking back his dark hair. It still fell around his face, but he thought it looked better this way. Lonan pulled the sweater over his thin chest—it was a little big, but it was very warm. Next came the trousers, which he ended up using a belt from his previous clothing to keep up. They were worn, but comfortable. He came out into the main room and Sharon chuckled.

“My, you are handsome aren’t you?” she laughed, “Come and sit down, I’ve made us some tea to warm our bones.” She lead him over to some comfortable, old armchairs, offering him a cup of steaming liquid. Lonan sipped it- and immediately decided he loved it. Warmth spread down his body, radiating out of his stomach and he felt much better immediately. Not half as cold.

“So, Lonan, can you tell me anything about yourself?” she asked, leaning back in her own armchair, sipping her tea.

“Not really,” he said softly, “I’m afraid I still don’t remember anything.”

“Well. I daresay you’re not Irish,” she chuckled.

“I’m not what?”

“Heavens, lad, you are out of it aren’t you? We’re in Ireland, not ten miles from Dublin.”

“I’m sorry. Nothing really seems familiar at all. I don’t think I’m from around here,” he said sheepishly.

“Perhaps not. If you don’t mind me askin’, what was so wrong when you woke up?” she asked.

“I don’t really know. I just felt like I had lost everything. Like I had been abandoned or… I don’t know what it was, but it was overwhelming,” he said, voice getting softer.

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out, don’t you worry.”

\-----

A week later, Lonan had settled in very nicely. He helped Sharon quite a lot, and she told him about the world. She told him what was going on as he helped her cook and clean, keeping everything in order. He did his best- after all, she was just taking him in, and he felt he had to repay her somehow.

One day though, as he looked at the television, he found something odd. The screen showed a group of men and one woman. One of the men was in a strange red metal suit, one was wearing red white and blue, and the others were dressed strangely as well.

But one man completely stole his attention.

“Oh, looks like the Avengers are back to work!” Sharon said, sitting down next to him on her couch.

“Who is he?”

“Which one, Iron Man?”

“No, the blonde with the hammer.”

“Oh him? That’s Thor. Says he’s the god of thunder. With those muscles I wouldn’t doubt it!” she chuckled.

“Thor…” Lonan whispered, feeling almost on the brink of knowing something. Like he should know something, but he had forgotten.

He couldn’t have a link to Thor though. No, that was too much. But every day, he watched for Thor.

Sharon didn’t mind, she liked those tough young men too.


	2. Adante

One day, Sharon didn’t wake up.

Lonan wasn’t sure what to do, not about this, so he packed up a small bag and began to roam. He roamed across the moors until he came to the city, pinching food when he was hungry, and he made sure he looked well kept. People noticed him less if he made the appearance of having money, and it wasn’t all that hard to do. He could sometimes walk out of cafes if he was careful without paying and out of restaurants. He felt a little bad about it, but he needed food. He quickly learned how to pick pockets in the city, and after some time, he had enough money to buy passage to England from a ferryman that wasn’t concerned about those silly passports. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to prove who he was. He didn’t know who he was, so that didn’t help him any.

He found himself in London.

Lonan did the best he could there, and once, he snuck into an old theater, and it turned out to be a very, very lucky turn of events for him.

A curious thing awaited him. A large, strangely shaped, black, shining, box-like table with a bench before it sat on a stage, the front covered with black and white keys. He stepped over, his footsteps the only sound and then the creaking of the bench as he sat down. What a strange thing.

He pressed one of the white bars down, and a sound rung out, clear and pure.

It had to be an instrument of some sort, right? Each bar he pressed made a different sound.

“Hey, you play piano?” a voice asked. A young woman stepped out from back stage, hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt.

Lonan looked up quickly, biting his lip. Her long, deep brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and kind, stormy grey eyes watched him. “No, no not at all,” he said shaking his head.

“You from around here?”

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head again. She sat down next to him, starting to pluck out a tune.

“My name’s Andrea,” she said, glancing over at him.

“Lonan,” he smiled lightly in return.

“So… where are you from?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t really know,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“You… don’t know?”

“No… I woke up in Ireland, and I can’t remember a thing before,” he said softly, “I don’t even know what my name really is. A very kind old woman took care of me for a while but she died. Since then I’ve been traveling.”

“So… you don’t have a place to stay?” Andrea asked, frowning.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, “I’ve been doing well though, staying different places.”

“Well, I never would have guessed! No wonder you’re so skinny though!”

“As long as I keep looking at least decent I can stay places easier and get food,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“Clever aren’t you? Well, you can stay in my dressing room,” she beamed, winking at him, “I’m usually the only one in there, and if someone says something, I’ll say you’re a cousin. Just be careful.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be like a ghost,” he smiled.

“Well then, how about dinner?” she asked.

“You don’t need to-“

“Nope, you’re coming to dinner with me.”

“Well… if you insist,” Lonan said, running a hand through his hair.

\-----

Andrea taught Lonan quite a lot about actually living in the world. She showed him London, taught him piano, got him a job at a bar, playing here and there, showed him in general, how to be a young man in the city, living life at its best. Soon, Andrea invited him to move into her apartment.

However, the day she came over to pick him up from the theater, he was gone.

A small tin of loose leaf Earl Grey tea sat on the desk beside a note. She smiled and picked up the box—she swore she had never said she loved the tea, but he had somehow figured out that it was her favorite.

 _Dearest Andrea,  
My sincere apologies for leaving so abruptly. I know tea will not make up for it, but perhaps it will be a small something for you to remember me by. There is something I need to find. In my dreams, I see strange golden halls, or hear the ring of battles I feel I’ve fought. Thank you for teaching me what you have, and helping me while I try to find myself. Thank you for everything you have done for me. Perhaps one day I shall be able to return the favor._

 _Thank you,  
Lonan_

\-----

After that, Lonan wasn’t so lucky.

He went to give his last performance at the bar, and on his way out with some crisp new notes in his pocket, someone grabbed his arm.

“Hey, Lonan, you going anywhere tonight?” one of the men he’d seen watching him closely asked, blonde hair spilling into his pale, pale blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Lonan asked, arching an eyebrow a little warily at the man, who just smiled at him.

“My name’s Davis,” he said, letting go of Lonan’s arm, offering his hand.

“Well… it’s nice to meet you,” Lonan said, taking his hand, gently shaking it.

Davis grinned, “So you wanna have a drink with me and my mates?” Davis asked, watching him expectantly.

“Well… I really suppose I don’t have anything else better to do…” Lonan said.

“That’s the spirit!” Davis said, clapping an arm around his shoulders, “Where are you staying? I’ll bring you back after we’re all done!”

“I don’t- really have anywhere to stay,” Lonan said, flushing slightly.

“You can stay at my place!”

“Really? That would- that would be great, thank you,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well come on then, let’s go have some fun.”

Everything got worse from then on, though he had no idea.

\-----

Davis' flat was rather run-down, but he had enough space and an extra bedroom for Lonan to stay in. Lonan went around the corner to his room and stayed there pretty frequently, but at night, he slid into the moth-eaten pale blue covers, and dreamed of a world that felt out of his reach. He wasn't exactly sure how his mind kept coming up with this.

After a few days, Davis wanted him to pay something if he wanted to stay. Not as much as a usual rent would be, but something. Lonan’s money was slowly drained away, until he hardly had any pounds left. He tried applying for jobs, but nowhere was hiring. He fell back into the habit of picking pockets to scrape up something, but soon, it wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Davis,” Lonan said after two months, “I haven’t got enough this time. I can’t find a job, I’ve been- I’ve been picking pockets to try and scrape something up and I can’t,” he said quietly. Davis seemed quick to anger, and he felt terrible. He was eating this man’s food and living in his house, and he felt like he needed to do something.

“You don’t have the money this month?” Davis frowned, “Well… just have it next month, Lonan.”

Lonan could feel a slight warning from the words and he nodded, “Of course, I’ll have it, I promise. I’ve been looking for jobs all over, surely someone will hire me.” It was hard though, without the right credentials, the right proof. It was hard when you didn’t even know your name.

The next month came, and still nothing.

“I swear I’ll get it!”

“You little bastard, you planned this all along didn’t you?”

“I didn’t, I can’t find a job, and I don’t remember enough, I’m sorry!”

Smack.

Lonan stumbled back, a hand to his cheek where it stung, his green eyes wide.

“You’ll find that money, one way or another.”

The next month arrived, and still, he couldn’t find a job.

 

This time, Davis’ fist collided with his jaw.  
“What do you do all day? Just wander around and- I knew I couldn’t trust you, fucking-“

“I tried!” Lonan insisted, cupping the side of his face gently, “I tried, nobody will hire me!”

Davis punched him in the stomach and when he crumpled, shoved him to the ground, kicking his back. Lonan hissed, staying where he was, coughing and trying to get air into his lungs again.

“Next month, if you don’t have the money, you’ll really be sorry. I’ve been easy on you, Lonan,” Davis said, shoving his hair out of his eyes, “I could’ve made you suck my dick to earn your keep, but no, I let you stay. Fucking bastard.”

The next times that people came to the house, Davis shoved him into the basement of the small flat, and locked him down in the dark.

The third month, Lonan offered all he had. It wasn’t even a quarter of what he was supposed to have, but he licked his split lip, offering it anyway.

“I’m sorry,” was all he had the chance to say before Davis grabbed him and pushed him down the stairs into the basement.

He fell.

 _He was falling._

He vaguely heard himself crying out, scraping his shoulder, his clothes tearing on the unfinished wood of the stairs.

 _But the foes around him were too. Steel rang on steel._

Adrenaline surged in him as he hit the bottom of the stairs, the concrete awaiting him.

 _He was a force to be reckoned with, this wasn’t his place, how dare they-!_

Lonan coughed, trying to gather himself, but his whole body hurt. He touched his head and felt blood.

 _The gash on his forehead dripped blood into his eyes as he stood. He threw his hand out, ice flying into his nearest dark foe._

Somehow, he stood up, and started to climb up the stairs, holding his aching arm, limping his way up the stairs, his eyes fixed on the beam of light under the door. He wiped blood away that dripped into his eyes.

 _He heard his brother bellowing his name, but he snickered and sliced through the throat of another enemy._

Lonan picked up the pace, put both hands on either side of the railing that lead downstairs, and kicked the door open with both his feet. He stumbled as he landed, falling to his knees. “What the fuck are you-“

 _Blood. He found the one who had run a spear through his side and had sliced open his forehead with his sword and-_

He picked himself up and stepped over to Davis, his eyes ice. Davis tried to punch him again but he grabbed the man’s arm and threw him down-

 _He took his own sword out, thrust it into the monster’s guts-_

And kicked him, not caring where, but after months of the words he had heard, after months of bruises, after trying so hard-

 _Twisting and then ripping it out. There was blood. Oh, there was blood. He hated to get his hands dirty, but every once and a while, someone drove him to do it._

When Davis just started crying out for him to stop, Lonan did. He lowered his foot to the ground, panting wildly, his lips tightly shut.

“Don’t try following me. If you follow me, I will tear you apart,” he hissed, his voice slightly hoarse, but full of danger, “I swear it.”

He grabbed his bag and left, wiping his bloody footprint on the front rug.

No one would treat him like that again. Never.

He was on his own, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an extremely quick thank you to everyone for reading this! I wasn't expecting half as many hits, let alone so very, very quickly! Thank you so much! If anyone would review, I would appreciate it so very greatly, I'd love to know how I'm doing with this! Thank you, I can't say it enough!


	3. Chapter 3

After Lonan left Davis, he just started walking. The people on the streets stared at him. Blood dripped into his eye and he limped along, body aching. 

“Lonan!” he heard a familiar voice call, and he spun around, eyes wide, “Lonan, what happened?”  
Andrea. She pulled his face into her hands, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs. He winced, pulling her hands away.

“I’m fine—“

“No you’re not!” she cut him off, “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

“No—“ he pulled away, stumbling backwards a little.

“Lonan- it’s okay. You can trust me,” she said, softening a little, seeing distrust in his green eyes, “I won’t hurt you. I just want to help—you’re hurt and you need to get fixed up. I’ll just take you back to the theater and you can leave whenever you want.” She wasn’t sure if he was going to start running or not- she hoped he wouldn’t. He looked so… broken. But there was a new resolve in his eyes.

“Alright,” he whispered, stepping towards her again, “Thank you.”

She smiled broadly with relief, and took his arm, leading him along the streets.

Andrea took him back to her dressing room, the cot he had slept on before still set up with the warm wool blanket waiting for him. He sat down on the edge, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Can I… ask what happened?” she asked, wetting a washcloth with cool water. She stepped back over and knelt in front of him, dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

“I just… stayed with the wrong person is all,” he muttered. Her grey eyes softened further and he tasted bile for a moment. He hated when people looked at him like that. Couldn’t stand it.

Lonan looked around the room, noticing everything a little more. Of course, all of Andrea’s things had been here the whole time, he just… hadn’t quite noticed them. Her room was a bright red, makeup counter covered in elegant little bottles and containers, pictures of faraway places cut out of magazines taped to the mirror. There was a rack of outfits by the wall, and hung on the side were a few hats, shoes resting at the bottom, ready to be put on.

Everything seemed a little clearer, for some reason.

“You should get some rest,” Andrea said, looking him over. She was glad he hadn’t been hurt too seriously, mostly a few bumps and bruises.

“Yes… thank you,” he said, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Listen- if you need anything at all just let me know. Here—keep this, and call my apartment if you need anything,” she said and placed a small cell phone on the side of the cot. He nodded, smiling softly.

“I’ll be fine. I think I just need some rest and time alone,” he said, sliding under the blankets. 

“Alright,” she said, “I’ll bring some food for you in the morning, you skinny thing,” she teased.

But when morning came, she found was a neatly made cot, a note resting beside the phone on the pillow.

_Andrea,  
Leaving like this again is hardly fair to you. I feel like I need to continue searching, and I am on the brink of figuring something out. I can’t help but feel that there is something more that I’m missing. Thank you again for everything. I will keep in touch. I wrote down your phone number in case I wanted to call- but I promise to write to you. _

_Thank you,  
Lonan_

\-----

Across the ocean, another was searching.

Everywhere he went, every time someone attacked, Thor looked for him. He was terrified that Loki was off somewhere alone, after what had happened. The look in his brother’s eyes as he fell was a promise of vengeance, the realization of something soul-wrenching, though Thor had no idea what it was. Loki had always been that way. 

He wasn’t going to give up looking.

Heimdall had told him that he could sense Loki’s presence, though he could not pinpoint it. So Loki was alive somewhere. On Midgard.

His friends told him there was hardly a chance of finding his brother with how many people there were here. Still, he searched. Steve was the most willing to help him.

One night as a storm brewed, he sat in one of the comfortable chairs by the television and Steve sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Thor, you know, if you think he’s out there, maybe you could take some time off and go looking,” Steve said, shrugging a little.

“I think he does not want to be found. Loki has always been the best at hiding,” Thor sighed.

“You’re his brother though,” Steve pointed out, “You know him best. I’ll go with you after this next mission. I think we need a break,” he smiled.

Thor grinned widely, “Well said—he can’t hide forever!”

\-----

Lonan jerked into a wakeful state, taking a deep breath. 

He had gotten on the first train to Paris, and ended up resting for a while. Of course, he got a few odd looks for his battered appearance, but he felt as though his mind was clearer.

When he got off the train, he began to wander the streets. Everything was beautiful here. The sky was clouded, the buildings tall, old and new mingled together to create a well-known skyline, the Eiffel Tower reaching towards the clouds. Musical voices played through the streets, laughter drifting in the wind. As he walked the streets, he could smell fresh bread and coffee and all sorts of other spices and scents once he reached a square where it seemed there were quite a few places to eat. He followed the street a little more and came across a marketplace, and he knew he’d be alright here.  
One short conversation with the baker to distract him and he walked off with a loaf of bread in his satchel. He stepped into a little café and purchased a coffee, and spent most of his evening walking the streets. It was just fascinating here. He found a café to play at in the evening, and he spent his tips on a postcard.

_Dear Andrea,  
I hope that this letter finds you well. I am in Paris, and it is beautiful here. Thank you for teaching me piano—it has definitely made itself a very useful talent. For some reason, I don’t hear anyone speaking another language though. It’s a little strange, isn’t it? Aren’t they supposed to speak French here? Strange but… I suppose rather convenient. Again, I’m really sorry that I left you in such a state, but I’m doing well. Don’t worry._

_Lonan_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so very sorry for taking so long! I wound up losing the notebook that I write Blackbird in, and I've been rather busy lately. I'll have it all written up soon though! Thank you for those of you who are still keeping up with this! And I apologize for adding the same chapter twice- I have no idea how that escaped my attention. My apologies!


	4. Capriccioso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the lovely Lokia, who inspired me to toss this up here. Thank you so much for the assurance even if you had no idea I needed it!

Unfortunately, there came a day on which everything changed.

It started like most others for Lonan. A morning with a cup of café au lait, a pastry in one hand and a book in the other, seated on the roof of a building. But it was when he went inside one of the corner cafes for another coffee that he spotted the news.

Thor and Captain America were apparently traveling, searching for someone named Loki.

His heart was hammering in his chest and he didn’t know why. The news flashed a picture that someone had drawn, and it looked strikingly familiar, and uncomfortably like him.

The two had arrived in Paris with pomp and celebration, and Lonan just stared at the screen as they waved. Thor seemed so vibrant and proud, and the Captain a little more bashful, but he still smiled and shook hands all the same. 

There was just… no way he could be connected to Thor.

Lonan took a deep breath finished off his second cup of coffee and threw away the rest of his pastry, slipping out the door in a hurry. But by some stroke of fate, he ran straight into Steve Rogers, who happened to be stepping in.

“Whoa- I’m so sorry!” Steve said quickly, looking over to make sure he was alright.

“It’s fine,” Lonan said and as quickly as he could lost himself in the crowds.

Why didn’t he want to be seen? It was an overwhelming urge to run away as quickly as he could, evade them, lose them, and just get away. 

Lonan kept a close eye on the news. He couldn’t shake the chill he got when Thor was shown.

“Loki, please stop hiding. I wish to speak with you,” he would say, a glimmer of hope in his stormy blue eyes. His voice was low and coaxing—but not pleading. No, Thor wouldn’t grovel. He was a warrior and a god with honor and pride. There was sorrow and hurt in his eyes that stirred something—feelings in Lonan like when he was seeing things, feelings like the ones drawn out of him while he dreamed of golden halls. Lonan rubbed the side of his face with a sigh.

He knew he wasn’t this… Loki. He was no god.

A few days later he was lounging on a roof- someone had put chairs and a few plants at the top and it made quite a nice space to relax. He was leaning with his arms draped over the railing, a cat sitting in the sun beside him. It must have belonged to someone, but it frequently came up to visit him when he was reading here. But today, he was just thinking. Contemplating.

Lonan’s dreams had gotten stranger. Last night his dreams were of battle, blood and fear. Of riding behind Thor into battle, spear raised high above his golden horned helm, a cry raised from his lips that echoed the other’s.

“For Asgard!”

A shared smile between brothers of adrenaline and fierce protectiveness, the utmost loyalty to one another.

But he wasn’t like that. And even so… if he was Loki, then why the hell was he here? Why didn’t he know? Lonan sighed and reached over, scratching the cat behind its ears, the little creature purring at his touch.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if I were a cat too? Then you and I could just sit here all day and no one would care and we could just sunbathe. I’ve got a feeling I won’t be up here many more times though,” he said softly to it. But of course the cat didn’t have answers for him—just warm company for a bit.

\-----

Thor and Captain America continued to appear on the news the next day and each time he caught a glimpse of them, his heart pounded.

For a week, he kept to side streets, alleys, and roofs, kept off the main promenades to prevent running into them. Just in case. Although- somehow that didn’t help him. As he stepped into a café to get coffee one morning, he felt a large hand on his shoulder.

“Loki?”

Lonan’s eyes went wide and he spun around, “No- No I’m not-“

“Loki, no more tricks,” Thor frowned, brow furrowed at his reaction.

“I am not Loki. My name is Lonan, please remove your hand,” he said, his voice a low warning. Thor’s frown deepened and he tensed slightly, but pulled his hand back to his side.

“Do you truly not remember, brother?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m not your brother,” Lonan said and slid out the door.

“He would say that too,” Thor sighed, watching him leave, his eyes darkening as a storm brewed.

Lonan went down the side alley beside the café, bolting up a ladder onto the roof. Always the best way to escape- to just disappear onto the roofs. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched Thor exit the café and look around, a slight slump to his broad shoulders. Lonan’s lips tightened, unsure of what was going on. He knew he looked… very similar to this missing brother Thor seemed so desperate for. Enough to be mistaken for him, apparently.

\-----

“It was him, I know it was,” Thor said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. He and Steve were staying in a nice hotel- he liked it here, the little custom of leaving chocolates on the pillows was one both of them appreciated.

“How could you tell for sure? There are billions of people on this planet, one of them has a pretty high chance of looking like Loki,” Steve pointed out.

“He protested but… he could be lying. But he seemed… to be quite genuine. But how could he have forgotten who he is?” Thor muttered. 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, shaking his head, “But from what you’ve told me about Loki, he’s not the type to just sit around after what happened.”

“He could be planning something but… it has been some time.”

“We’ll just have to see,” Steve said, offering the god a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for not properly updating this in so long. Particularly after seeing the Avengers I've been having a bit of trouble figuring out where exactly Blackbird is going to go. But we'll have to see because right now, you know just about as much as I do! I had more written, but I need to re-write everything that came after this. Thank you for putting up with my slow updates, and thank you for all the comments and kudos, it means so much! Special thanks to Lokia, even if you didn't know it, I needed your little reminder. So again, thank you so, so, so very much!


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